Joaquin knew very well that he was turning eighteen in three months. He didn’t need the guidance counselor to remind him of that. He also knew that there were services that he could use until he was twenty-one: rent and food subsidies, possible scholarships for school, job assistance. But Joaquin had spent a literal lifetime in the system, being promised things that were always just out of reach, and he didn’t want to spend the next three years chasing the white rabbit down the hole. He had always just assumed he’d join the army, but then he’d think about leaving Mark and Linda’s house and his stomach would flip.
As soon as he was out of the guidance counselor’s office, he threw the article in the trash.
When he met Ana at their diner, someone was already seated in their normal booth, and there were kids running around, and Joaquin felt like he wanted to peel off his skin, it felt so tight.
“I told Mark and Linda that I didn’t want to go through with the adoption,” he said as soon as the waiter brought their drinks. “There, now you can yell at me for the rest of the hour.”
Ana widened her eyes but then just started tearing the paper wrapper off her straw. “I’m not going to yell at you,” she said, in a voice that was a little too steady. “If that’s truly what you want, then I’m not upset. In fact, I’d congratulate you on asking for what you want.”
“But?” Joaquin asked.
“But,” she continued, “I don’t think that’s actually what you want. I think you think that’s what Mark and Linda want instead. I think you’re afraid of disappointing them, and afraid that they’ll disappoint you, so you shut it down before you could take a chance and get hurt.”
“I’m not worried about getting hurt,” Joaquin insisted. “I’m worried about them getting hurt. I don’t know how I’m going to react, so I . . .” He moved his hands farther apart in front of him.
“Distance yourself?” Ana guessed.
Joaquin just took his straw and pounded it on the table until the wrapper was crinkled up at the bottom. He felt like picking a fight with her, and he didn’t know why. “You want to know what I did last weekend?” he said.
“Of course,” Ana said, smooth as glass as always.
“I saw Grace and Maya. We met for coffee, and while we were there, some guy Grace knew came up to her and started calling her a slut.” Joaquin jammed his straw into his drink with more force than necessary.
Now Ana really did look surprised. “Why?” she asked.
“Dunno. I guess I didn’t really get a chance to ask before I slammed the guy against the wall.” Joaquin could still feel the pulse against his forearm, how good it had felt to scare Adam as badly as he had scared Grace. “We didn’t get in a fight. I just told him to leave my sister alone, and he and his friend ran away.”
Ana sipped at her lemonade. “Did you use the word sister?”
Joaquin nodded.
“And then what did you do?”
“I . . .” Under the table, Joaquin started to bounce his leg, a nervous habit that he had never been able to break. “I ran.”
“Where did you run?”
“Into the parking lot.”
“And Grace and Maya?”
“They followed me into the park next to the mall. I was . . . my hands kept shaking. I couldn’t stop them.”
“Joaquin.” Ana’s voice was too soft for the noise of the diner, but Joaquin heard her loud and clear. “Did you scare yourself?”
Joaquin nodded. He had wanted to tell Ana the story so he could shake her up, make her realize that he was beyond saving, that she was better off having salads and lemonade with a kid who could actually be fixed, but her eyes were so gentle, so sad, that it just made him want to cry.
“I told . . . I told them.”
Ana frowned a little. “Told who what?”
“Grace and Maya. About Natalie.”
Ana reached over, placed her hand on top of his, and didn’t say anything.
“They said . . .” Joaquin bit his lip, blinked his eyes. “They said that I was just a kid, you know? They said it wasn’t my fault.”
“And did you believe them?”
Joaquin shook his head as his lower lip began to wobble.
“Did you want to?”
This time, he nodded, and Ana squeezed his hand and stood up. “C’mon,” she said. “Let’s go for a walk.”